Prologue
Xavier
“I swear to whatever deity you assholes believe in, I didn’t fucking kill her!”
“Hard to believe when your prints are all over her and her apartment.”
“Did you test to see if it was my cum in her pussy, too?” I slam my back against the cold metal chair and glare at the interrogating officer. Maybe he’ll burn before he ever reaches the hell he’s destined for.
His eyes narrow as he folds his hands together in front of him. “Listen here, son—”
“No!” I slam my fist down onto the hard table, ensuring the pain reminds me this is really fucking happening. “I wouldn’t have killed her. I never harmed a hair on her fucking head.” That she didn’t ask me to. “In fact, I…” I stop myself short of saying I killed for her. That would make this shit worse.
“If you can’t be truthful with us, Mr. Hayes, then clearly you’re hiding something.” He sighs while pinching the bridge of his nose. “What aren’t you saying?”
“You don’t want the answer to that.”
He glances back up at me and raises a brow. As his lips part to spew more bullshit, a knock on the door stops his next words.
We both turn to see a young officer enter, and, behind her, Whittaker Sommers and Maxwell Langston.
Of fucking course they’re here.
“Officer Banks,” the young woman greets. “Mr. Sommers and Mr. Langston both have something to discuss with Mr. Hayes.”
The officer looks between the three of us before sighing and standing, pushing his chair back with a gut-wrenching screech across the concrete floor. With one last pointed look at me, he leaves the room, bumping his shoulder into Sommers on the way.
“Thank you, Natalie,” Langston says, smiling sweetly at her until she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
“What do you want?” Of course, I know what they want, but they’re gonna have to spell it out for me. I need this shit recorded for court.
Both men sit in the chairs across from me, pulling them across the concrete like the officer.
That long screeching is potentially the worst sound of my life. Outside of this crooked police department accusing me of murdering the woman I was certain I was about to marry.
“Mr. Hayes,” Sommers says, though his words don’t sound like a greeting. Instead, he sounds about ready to kill me. He can’t believe I’d do this to Lexi.
Right?
“I’ve got this, Whit,” Langston interrupts. He places his hand on his friend’s shoulder and nods at him once before turning to me with a grim look in his eyes. “Mr. Hayes, we have it on good authority that you were the last one to see Miss Sommers alive.”
“I saw her alive before I went to work, yes. When I came back from work, she was already gone.” How many times will I have to repeat this exact sentence today?
Langston, dodgy old fuck he is, folds his hands together and relaxes onto his elbows as his eyes bore into my fucking soul. Blue like the ice taking the place of a heart in his fucking chest. “Mr. Hayes, no one else has said they’ve seen her all day. In fact, no one has seen her in a few weeks.”
Because we fucking left town for a while. Blew off some steam.
“We went on a vacation. Came back because I had to work.”
“Your neighbor said she hadn’t left the apartment. Heard you guys screaming last night, too.” Langston shrugs and leans back as if he already knows the outcome. Maybe he fucking does, I don’t know.
Whittaker leans forward, slams his fist on the table, and visibly changes colors in front of me. “Xavier, I know it was you who killed my daughter. Whether you did it on purpose or not doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead!”
“She probably did it to her fucking self, asshole! She had a goddamn addiction, and this new drug,” I glare at Langston, since that shit is a thousand percent his fault, “was more addicting than anything I’ve ever helped her get off of. I don’t know who her supplier is.” I hold up a finger as I start ticking off more information I’ve already given the police. “I don’t know what was going on between the hours of eight in the morning and ten at night, because I was at work at Brighton Studios.” Another finger. “We had just celebrated Valentine’s Day the day before, and ended up arguing over a burnt fucking pizza before having the roughest fucking sex ever.”
Whittaker cringes as I hold up another finger on that one, but he doesn’t speak. He’s too busy glaring at me.
“On top of all that,” I toss my hands in the air. I’m too tired for this. “I’d never in my wildest fucking dreams murder her. I was in love with her, and swore I’d marry her one day once she was able to get clean and see clearly for probably the first time in her whole fucking life.”
“You kept her supplied with the drugs, Mr. Hayes,” Langston chimes in. “We have video evidence of you taking her to and from all the parties she was buying from.”
“Because I was keeping her safe!” I bellow, growling when I can’t stand because I’m goddamn chained to this chair.
“Why not bring her to her mother and I?” Whittaker asks, genuinely confused. Delusional ass.
“If you have to ask that, you need serious therapy. You’re just as bad, if not worse than the goddamn drug dealers. It’s also because of you she was doing them. Are you happy? Want me to tell you every one of her secrets? She’s not fucking here to yell at me for telling you how much of a piece of shit—”
“Enough!” Langston stands and pulls a wad of photos and a USB stick out of his pocket.
Obviously I don’t know what’s on the USB stick, but as he pushes the photos toward me, my blood runs ice fucking cold.
Dozens of photos of Lexi and I on Halloween last year, taken from various angles.
The murder of the twins. Us chopping their bodies to pieces and putting their bodies in trash bags.
Lexi stabbing Lily while I snap Mike’s neck.
A long lens shot of us chasing Carter through the arcade.
Us lighting the matches and the ensuing devastation from our actions.
Lifting my eyes to meet Langston’s, I say nothing as he grins, knowing he’s caught me. What else does he have on me from that night? Surely not… no.
“You should know I have more on that.” He taps the USB stick and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. “So, Mr. Hayes, it might be in both your best interest, and in mine, to take this agreement we are offering you.”
“What agreement? What do you want?”
“Plead guilty to Alexis’s murder however you have to. Take a life sentence with no possibility of parole. We hide the rest, and you won’t face the death penalty.”
I taste blood the second my teeth puncture the inside of my cheek, but it doesn’t bother me as much as losing everything within hours. Is life in prison better than the death penalty? Really? Am I even ready to accept death if that’s what I face? Do I want to be dragged through the mud or do I just want to plead guilty to one murder versus being tried for a potential eight?
“Clock’s ticking, Mr. Hayes,” Langston says with a tap of his finger to his watch.
I have fucking nothing. Is there a point to fighting?
Looking down at my hands, I take note of the many tattoos I’ve gotten over the past year, mostly to practice on myself or to allow the other apprentices at the shop to practice. The one merigold spanning the inside of my wrist to represent my grandmother stands out. I can at least make money to keep her comfortable. She won’t have to worry so much if I can make enough money to get her into a home. Maybe I could—
“Mr. Hayes,” Langston says, clearing his throat. “What’s it gonna be?”
Knowing I’m throwing my life away, but not my grandmother’s, I meet the blue eyes of the devil himself and seal my own fate. “I’ll plead guilty to the murder of Alexis Sommers, but I need all copies of that shit,” I point to the pictures and USB stick, “to disappear.”
“Magnificent,” Langston says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, then begins recording audio. “So tell us, Mr. Hayes, how exactly did you kill Alexis Sommers on the night of February 14th?”
